Reverie
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: Two years. It was the amount of time it took for me to truly become jealous of the relationship my husband had with his partner. And two years is exactly how long his partner has been in a coma. Angsty Kathy introspective.


Another big first for me. A strictly Kathy fic. I know what ya'll are thinking. Ooooooh... LOL. Just give it a shot, enjoy, and please review!

For CuppyCakeGumDrop (You know the song, too! LOL). The muse is just finicky that way. Hehehe.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

SVUSVUSVUSVUSVUSVU

Two years.

It's funny just what can happen in two years. Twenty four months. It's more than the amount of time between the first time I saw him, and the day I gave birth to his daughter. It's the amount of years that fill the gap between that daughter and our second little girl. It was the amount of time it took for me to truly become jealous of the relationship my husband had with his partner.

And two years is exactly how long his partner has been in a coma.

If I close my eyes, I am reliving that day again. Captain Cragen picked me up from work, because even he didn't know what was going on. And as he drove, he explained to me that my husband and his partner had been involved in a shoot out, and one of them had been grievously injured. But who it was, he just didn't know. And in the bottom of my stomach, a pit of dread formed. I knew what to expect with his job, and when he first started, every ring of the phone sent terror down my spine. Because I never knew if it was a friend, family member, or someone he worked with calling to tell me that Elliot would never walk through that front door again.

But when we got to the chaotic scene, we quickly learned that it had been Olivia who was injured. Shaky reports from people who had seen it pieced together what had happened. They were trying to talk the man down, and Olivia had holstered her gun and held her hands out in a peace offering. That was her downfall. Before anyone could blink, the suspect pulled the trigger, sending the searing piece of metal ripping through Olivia's vulnerable body.

There was a body bag on the ground, and someone said that Elliot had emptied his bullets into the man after he shot Olivia. I could see crimson blood staining the ground, Olivia Benson's blood. And later, when I finally saw Elliot at the hospital that she had been taken to, I saw that same blood covering his clothes and hands.

I opened my eyes and return to the present, to a cold and dark house with only one occupant. Me. For these past two years, I've seen less and less of my husband. At the beginning, I had to go to the hospital if I wanted to see him at all. At the beginning, I played the concerned wife, bringing him clean clothes and hot food. At the beginning, I feigned the soggy emotion and pain that was flowing off of everyone who knew her. And at the beginning, I held onto the naive hope that one night, my husband would come home to me, tell me that she had died, and we could be a family again.

But as weeks passed, he finally started coming home occasionally to catch a nap and see the kids. I always put on that happy facade when he came home and tried to take care of him, like a good wife should. But he was never interested, and before I knew it, he was leaving to return to the hospital.

To her.

I've always tried not to hate Olivia. And I had to trust her, because she was the person who kept my husband safe every day. And two years ago, she took a bullet that might have killed him.

Elliot has always tried to convince me that there is nothing between them except a close friendship, and I've always wanted to believe him. But God help me, whenever I see them together... It's like someone ripped the breath out of me. There's a smile that she brings to his face, one that at one time, I was the only one who brought it to his face. But now, and for two years, he hasn't smiled at me.

I was born a Catholic, and when Elliot and I slipped and I got pregnant, we did the right thing and got married. I've never regretted my children, though sometimes I do regret not being able to have done certain things. And sometimes, I think Elliot was the one who sacrificed the most. He was the one who worked all hours of the day and night so that we could have a house and take care of our children. But as time went by, I began to resent the stability that the job provided, because it took him away. And then one day, I looked at him and realized that I was looking at a complete stranger. I don't know if it was because we married so young, or if the job changed him, but he was a different man.

I had never truly contemplated divorce until then. Divorce is a sin, but what is a marriage without love and trust? We were both getting more and more miserable, and he was spending more and more time at work. Then three years ago, I told him that it was over, and it took several more months for him to realize it, too. We were doing what was right.

But then something changed his mind, and he begged to come home. He promised that he was a changed man, and all he wanted was his family back. My mistake was believing him.

For a while, I'll admit, it was like the good times in the beginning of our marriage. He was actually home, and when I went to bed at night, he was there with me. Then the shooting happened, and everything changed for the worse.

Now I'm lucky if I see him for more than five minutes once a week, and I can't take it anymore.

In front of me is a shot glass filled with whiskey, and in my hand is a pen. Elliot had signed all of the papers, and when he asked to come home, I kept them in the back of my closet. Until tonight.

All that is missing is one signature from me, but as I lower the pen to the paper, the phone rings. I grab it and sigh. "Hello?"

"Kathy."

His voice resonates in my ears, and I can tell something has happened. "What is it, El?"

"She's awake. Olivia's awake," he breathes, and I can hear the relief in his voice and the tears he is crying.

"That... That's great, El. How is she?" Those are some of the hardest words I have ever uttered in my forty something years on Earth.

"She's weak, but there's no brain damage."

I'm sure he's thanking God for small blessings. "That's wonderful, El." Without another word, I hang up the phone. I don't think I could have listened to anything else without losing my sanity. My marriage is gone, and I know it.

My eyes watch as I scrawl my name across the bottom of the page. Then I reach out and grab the shot glass, holding it up for a moment before I finish off the bitter liquid.

Tomorrow I'll drop the papers off.

Tomorrow I'll pack him some bags and help him move out.

Tomorrow we'll work out visitation for the twins.

And for once, all of those things don't scare the hell out of me. Because I know he's gone for good, and there's no use fighting the inevitable like I used to. I simply don't have anymore strength to do it.

I set the glass down and trudge upstairs for a little sleep, because tomorrow will be here all too soon.

Tomorrow.

The End!

A/N: Gasp, I know. I made her human. LOL. Who woulda thunk it? Thanks for reading, and please review!


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